Guilty by Insanity
by pensive puddles
Summary: How could you, Fred? How could you kill them,"George whispered. Fred replied,"You wouldn't understand." Identical on the outside, completely opposite inside. George confronts Fred about Hermione's murder. He'd forever wish that he hadn't.[DARK but good]


**Disclaimer** I do not own Harry Potter, although I'm up for the idea of JKR reading this little one-shot, be immensely impressed with it, and want to include it in book seven. Although, I think it's a pretty far-fetched idea. :sigh: Don't you just hate reality?

**WARNING** This is a dark, and rather graphic fic. I've warned you, and now your own your own, so all scaring caused by this fic is inculpable on me.

**Rating**: M basically, R for those who understand the movie ratings better than the other type of ratings (I still don't get the T's and M's…)

**Author:** Pensive Puddles

**Guilty by Insanity**

"How could you, Fred? How could you kill them?"

"You wouldn't understand," Fred said after an unhealthy pause. Fred looked away from George's wounded eyes, broken windows to a broken soul. The accused twin took another long breath from his cigarette, inhaling and savoring the chocking smoke, smothering himself before finally exhaling, and watched the smoke disappear into the air. He flicked his thumb against the cigarette, taping the ash off and revealing the flamed edges of the paper.

It was rashly incomprehensible how two people who looked so alike could be so different. One was shattered, the other nothing more than a dark, evil shadow.

"Then try and explain it," George begged, watching his twin gaze into the distance.

Fred glanced at his brother, taking in how George hadn't changed too much. His hair was still chopped short and his eyes still shined innocently despite the things he had seen, so unlike his brother's. He had adapted to Muggle clothing. Then again, most of the wizards had adapted to Muggle clothing; it was easier to hide amongst them and the Aurors had a hard time distinguishing who was Muggle and who was Wizard; perfect camouflage.

He took his time answering, blowing another cloud of smoke out into the air and flicked the dead cigarette to the ground. "There's nothing to explain," he replied, taking out another cigarette from his pack and holding it between his lips. He offered one to his twin. George shook his head; Fred shrugged and sparked his lighter to life.

"There's everything to explain," George snapped, just as coldly as his twin had replied.

"It's a damn war, George. No one can keep a happy face on through five fucking years," Fred said scornfully as memories of the past flooded through his mind. He waved them out of his mind, just as easily as he waved the smoke out of his face.

"No one can be so cold as you make them out to be," George remarked, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring.

"You're too pure hearted to understand, George. Really, I don't want to corrupt you," Fred smirked, flicking his long red bangs out his face, a twinkle in his blue eyes. It pained his twin's heart, seeing a sliver of his brother back again. And just as quickly as it came, it disappeared and Fred's eyes were cold and empty, just like the rest of the warriors.

"I'm not stupid, you know. If I remember correctly, I came up with most of our brilliant ideas in our joke shop," George said sadly, remembering the many nights he and his twin had worked spent testing and concocting new jokes to make themselves rich. Fred seemed to be thinking the same thing for he began to chuckle, "We were always so eager to make a quick galleon."

"It wasn't all about money."

"Most of it was. We always loved money, probably because we never knew it when we were little. But my children won't have that problem. This war will bring me riches beyond my wildest dreams. You can join us, brother. They'll make an exception for you, seeing as you're my twin and all," Fred smiled.

"I'll never join. I would _never_ betray my friends," George declared proudly, sending his twin a disappointed look.

Fred scowled. "Friends… there's no such thing. Allies, perhaps, but not friends. I don't need them; they only get in your way, make you do stupid things."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't believe anything I say, do you?" Fred took in another breath, smirking and exhaling the smoke through his nose.

"How could you, Fred? We were supposed to be on the same side, like always. Mom was heartbroken when she heard how you betrayed the family. She never was the same after that."

"Supposed to be on the same side, like always," Fred mimicked, and barked a harsh laugh. "I suppose just because I look like you, I'm suppose to walk and talk like you, aren't I? Of _course_! Why didn't _I_ see that? I'm not _supposed_ to be my own person. I'm not _supposed_ to make my own decisions. I'm supposed to do everything that you do."

"That's not what I mean," George objected.

"That's exactly what you mean! Just because you're two minuets older than me, you think that I should look up to you," Fred spat. He threw his cigarette to the ground in anger and yelled, "Everybody expected me to be you, to be a good boy, who only cared about pranking people, and not having a care in the world. Everybody expected me to be an exact replica of you! They saw you and they expected me to be exactly like you. After all, we look so bloody alike on the outside, why should our personalities be any different?"

"Stop being daft," George snarled.

Fred continued to mumble, most of it George couldn't understand, but he was able to pick out, "How the hell would you know? People loved you. Bill loved you. Charlie loved you. _She_ loved you."

At the mention of her, George's heart froze, a reminder to why he had come in the first place, why they were in the park, Fred playing with his new cigarette and George with his hands in his pockets now. "How could you do it, Fred?" he asked again.

"What the bloody fuck you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about!" George yelled, fists now clenched at his sides, shaking. "How could you kill her?"

Fred stared at him, more like through him, looking at something behind him. His blue eyes softened behind his long bangs that tried to hide the tears that formed in his eyes. Fred quickly blinked and his eyes transformed back into their hard, cold mask. "It weakened, Potter, didn't it? A distraction, I suppose, take him away from planning. And it worked, didn't it? He's out of his mind in grief now, isn't he? Ron can't console him, or even Potter's girlfriend – who is it? Loony Luna? Honestly, someone's gotta tell him he has no taste in girls whatsoever."

"You're lying. That's not why you killed her. I know you, Fred, as much as you disagree. There's another reason why you murdered her," George said quietly, watching as Fred looked away and glanced up into the sky, watching a crow fly over their heads. George whispered angrily under his breath, "She was our friend."

Fred shuddered but tried to pass it off as a yawn. He ran a hand through his long hair. George knew he was playing with fire; he could see the distress tensing his twin's muscles. "She was our _friend_!" he yelled.

"She was _your_ friend! She never was mine!" Fred bellowed, throwing his fists to his side. "She hated me. She always did. She made me feel so stupid and she called me immature. I could see it in her eyes. I could see the disgust in her face whenever she looked at me. But she never looked at you like that. No! She seemed to love you. She loved the way you joked around and she always laughed, true genuine laughs. She forced a giggle every now and then whenever I tried to joke around her. I hated her for it! I hate her! Damn it, we look so bloody alike. Why did she like you over me? Why didn't she like me, George? Why? I loved her. _You_ didn't love her as much as I did. I loved her so much, and she seemed to _hate_ me for it! And it only made me love her even more! The conniving bitch! I hate her!"

George watched as his brother's tough mask shattered, revealing a battered and hurt boy who had lost his way. He watched as Fred grabbed his head, pulling at his hair. His eyes were wild, his hair ruffled messily. He was off in his own little world as if seeing little pictures, little fragments of the past that George was incapable of seeing.

"She always went for the evil ones. Did you know that? She went for arrogant pricks with pale hair and pale eyes. She goes for those type of guys," Fred muttered. George looked at him skeptically, although he couldn't hide his uncertainty as he watched his brother go mad before him. "I saw them, I did. They were in the Forbidden Forest. They didn't know I was there. They were walking amongst the trees. I don't know why they were there. She never goes into the Forbidden Forest. And he was always scared of it. But I guess it was because they didn't think anyone would see them. He reached out and grabbed her hand and she smiled. She's such a filthy little Mudblood!

"I know she fucked him. I know she must have. She was so happy the next day. I asked her what she was happy about. She never told me. She didn't say a word. She just turned around and talked to someone else. Bitch. I hate her.

"No one knew of their little…_affair_, no one but me. I never said a word. I knew what Malfoy was; we all did. He was an egoistical punk. He'd get sick of her, and when he dumped, she would need a crying shoulder and I would be there to comfort her. That day never came." Fred went deadly silent after that, pressing his index fingers against his temples, pressing hard as if relieving himself from a migraine.

"I vowed that she would be mine someday. And I knew that our side was too weak. The Dark side, they were powerful. And she loved power. That's why she went for him, because he promised her power and glory and wealth. I saw them another time, going into the Room of Requirement. He was whispering it all into her ear, whispering how happy he was going to make her when he joined the Dark Side and how he was going to shower her with power. She'd be his queen. She only giggled, kissed him and pulled him into the Room of Requirement. I can only _guess_ what they wanted," Fred barked, a scowl deeply embedded into his face.

"I thought she was going to join the Dark Side since she was with Malfoy, so I did. And when I found out that she wasn't, I was kind of disappointed. But the Dark Lord, George, he knows _everything_. He knew that I loved her. He knew that I wanted her. And he offered her to me. All I had to do was follow and obey him and he would get her for me and make her mine, by any means. No Malfoy. And she'd be mine and she'd love me. The Dark Lord would make her. She'd love me after the memories of her past lovers were oblivated.

"I talked to Malfoy later on in the war. I knew he was still seeing her. I told him I knew his secret. Malfoy…so cool about it. He acted like he didn't care, but I knew he was scared of the knowledge I held above his head. I asked him what he saw in her, just out of curiosity. He denied it. I told him I had proof. Eventually he told me. He named all the things that I loved about her. Every. Single. Thing," Fred looked at George, whispering the last few lines quietly. His fury was laced with every word. "I loved everything that he loved. And yet, she loved him over me. Why? I couldn't understand!"

George could tell that Fred was talking more to himself than to his brother. He was feverishly smoking his cigarette and ripping bark off the tree he was holding onto. _It's her face, I'll rip it off, tear it, now he won't love her, but I'll love her and she'll love me for loving her deformities_, Fred thought.

"I couldn't wait for the Dark Lord to present her to me. I wanted her then. I wanted her by my side. I wanted her so badly. The Dark Lord favored Malfoy too much, though. After the war, he would have had first dibs, and he would have taken Hermione as his own. Not much good for me, huh? So I fixed that little problem. I declared him a spy. I showed them all pictures I had taken of Hermione and Draco together. I said that he was telling her all of our insight plans. That was why none of our raids were working. You never want to be against the Dark Lord. He does such terrible things to you.

"And you know what? I didn't even know that he _was_ a spy! It certainly was a good surprise to see that I accused him accurately. He looked at me with such betrayal. I have to admit, I almost felt bad. Almost." Fred sniggered maliciously.

"The Dark Lord let me have the pleasure of executing him. To win points with the Dark Lord, you always put on a good show. So I made his death long and painful. The taunts, the jibes, it was my best performance yet," Fred's eyes shined darkly. "She always said she loved how pale his skin was. I peeled it all off. She loved his silky, fair hair; I ripped it out of it his scalp. She loved his beautiful eyes. I gouged them out. I took out his tongue, that slithering tongue that had defiled her and tricked her into loving him. I cut it out. I left his ears though. I left those so he could hear everybody laugh. I left them so I could also denounce Snape. I left them so I could whisper into his ears right before I stabbed him in the heart, that heart that he had said belonged to her. I told him I'd take care of his little Mudblood. She'd keep me warm in my bed. He made an outraged cry with his tongueless mouth. But I cut him off with a quick stab to his bleeding heart – pun intended," Fred chortled at his own little joke. George looked at him in horror.

"The Dark Lord was most pleased at my performance. And now, I'm his right hand man. I'm the evilest man to do the job – basically, do all his dirty work." George wanted to vomit as he listened to his twin continue with a sick smile on his face. He wanted to walk away. He wanted to pretend he never heard any of it. He wanted to pretend the man in front of him wasn't his twin. But he couldn't.

"I visited her later that night. I couldn't stay away from her, and Malfoy wasn't a problem anymore. He wouldn't be able to keep her warm, and she was probably going to be cold… So I went to her house, that cute little flat. The door was unlocked. Silly girl. She shouted his name, hoping it was him," Fred remembered angrily. "She didn't say anything. She knew I was evil. That's what she wanted, wasn't it? After all, I did it all for her. And no matter what, no matter what I did, no matter how evil I became, she still hated me!

"She demanded to know what I was doing there. I told her that her lover wasn't going to be coming home. She didn't understand; I didn't explain. She understood eventually and she slapped me. I slapped her back. She was pissed; I loved it when she was angry, how her eyes would get all wild and possessed like that. It was…thrilling and it turned me on," Fred took another smoke and smiled at the memory. And then he frowned.

"She accused me of killing the father of her baby. I was too shocked to say anything. I finally told her that I loved her. I told her I could talk his place and we could raise the baby together – of course, I'd kill the little basterd later. But at the time, I didn't know what I was saying. I just wanted her and she was tempting me so much, _too_ much. She cursed me and damned me to hell and all these other horrible things that I didn't think my sweet Hermione could possibly say. It's a good thing I cut out his tongue; it had already stained her. She pushed me and she tried to kill me."

He paused in his story telling and said quietly. "I didn't mean to do it. Really, I didn't. It just got out of hand. She made me so angry!"

"_You_…" George swallowed hard. "_You_ were the one who raped her."

Fred titled his head up, cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. A slow smirk twisted his face hideously as he nodded. "That I did. She was a little resistant at first. But she was screaming and crying later. I would have let her live if she had screamed my name. Little whore, corrupted by Malfoy. I told her how I killed him as I raped her. It made our…_lovemaking_ so much sweeter."

"You're sick," George spat, disgusted at his twin. He covered his face, hiding the tears he cried for Hermione, for Draco, and for their unborn child. Fred noticed neither his accusations nor his tears.

"My only regret," Fred continued sadly, oblivious to his twin's sobbing, "is that I just didn't oblivate her mind and kept her as my personal little treat. Or better yet, raped her in front of Malfoy, and kill his unborn child. That would have utterly destroyed him. I know what it's like to see your love taken away from you, making love to another man."

"You…monster," George declared. "You're not my brother. You can't be."

Fred flipped his bangs out of his face, showing off the scar that covered the right side of his face, another mark that separated the twins. His freckled nose crinkled as he grinned a large, toothy smile. He straightened his long, leather trench coat that used to belong to Malfoy; he had always admired how mysterious and sexy Malfoy had dressed when he had been alive. He stood upright and looked straight into his twin's identical eyes. "Oh yes, George. I am your brother. I'm your twin brother. _No one_ could be closer to you than me. And never forget that."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. You could never hate me because I am you. After all, everybody else thinks so," Fred scowled darkly, flicking another finished cigarette away. He took out another one.

"When did you start to smoke?" George asked without thinking. This wasn't the Fred he knew. His Fred had been murdered.

"When did you start to care?" Fred snapped, lighting it up.

George was quiet and then asked, "How many other people did you kill?"

"Too many," he shrugged in boredom.

"Who killed Ron? Who killed Dad? Who killed them, Fred?" George asked regrettably after a long moment of silence. George didn't think he wanted to know, but he found himself waiting for the answer anyway.

"I don't know who killed them," Fred said, looking away, a look of shame finally flickering in his eyes.

"Liar. You _know_ who did it."

Silence. Fred continued to smoke.

"You killed them," he whispered, shocked; although deep inside he had already suspected it, he still had wanted to be terribly wrong. "You killed Ron. You killed Dad. You killed them all, didn't you? You killed my family!" he was yelling by the end.

Fred looked at him, titling his head to the side to get his bangs out of his face; George wanted to rip them out of his scalp. "_Your_ family?" Fred breathed quietly, and then bellowed, "What about _my_ family? You moan and groan of not having a family _now_? I never had a family!"

"You were too selfish to see the family that accepted you and loved you. If you feel unloved, it's your own fault!" George yelled. "You did it all to yourself!"

Fred chuckled darkly with the cigarette closing his lips. He took it out and wiped his mouth with his thumb. "You want to know how I killed them? Out of all of them, Ron was the most entertaining. I _imperio'_d him. I made him kill dad, mum, Ginny, Percy – I never did like Percy. He was always such a git. Ron felt so guilty after I released him. He wanted me to kill him as well. I didn't. I took him back to the Dark Lord's dungeons and I kept him in there. He battered himself against the walls until he knocked himself out. The boys would go down and have some fun with him, remind him of the people he killed. Some would even make themselves look like them and dance around him, demanding why he had killed him. Blaise was the best, dressing up like Ginny and taunting him, throwing in exaggerated details, like that Ron had raped her and he chose to forget it. That defiantly was what made Ron snap; the guilt was overpowering. Ron ran head on into the wall. He made a nice little crater there too. It left him a vegetable, and vegetables only take up space. We fed him to the fishes."

George held onto a tree for support. His head swam terribly and he cried quietly, "Ron…"

"I only wished Harry was there to see. I always think of the most malign, ingenious ways to torture people after their dead. It kind of sucks," Fred said pityingly. "Let's see…I knocked off a couple of others. Jordan – he always liked you better. That wouldn't do. McGonagall – tough old bird till the end. Neville – he wasn't such a wimp, but he went down eventually. Lavender and Parvati – they always did giggle too much. Colin Creevey – he was such an annoying little bugger. Zachary, Oliver, Angelina –"

George gasped, his face paling even more. Fred looked amused. "Oh? Didn't know I whacked off Angelina, did you? Honestly, George, I was doing you a favor. She was such an unfaithful bitch. I never did want to tell you, but since we're confessing, she tried to have a go with me. That is, before you married her. I think you guys were two months engaged or something. Repulsive whore, especially after I found out she was pregnant, and it wasn't yours either. She didn't even know who the father was. Hermione wouldn't have been so disgusting. She was so trustworthy – except with that jerk, Malfoy," Fred mused darkly. Then he was off in his own little world, thinking of Hermione, praising her and cursing her in the same breath. He stopped when George's long fingers wrapped tightly around his neck.

Fred looked up at him, his eyes glazed in insanity. George didn't care; a red haze blinded him. Revolted and ashamed, George strangled Fred. Fred kicked and squirmed under him as George pressed him down into the dirt. It burned him, pained him, set him on fire as his fingers pressed deeper and deeper into Fred's neck. Fred opened his mouth to scream, and he struggled to breathe. George shook him. He was going this for a good cause.

For his wife.

For his mum and dad.

For Ron.

For Draco.

For Hermione.

For himself and his own sanity.

George didn't let go, even after Fred had stopped moving and turned cold. He held onto his neck, his fingers making deeper imprints into his dead skin. Tears fell down his face. He blinked and he looked down at his twin's blank, dead countenance. The evil had left his eyes. His boyish blue eyes were clouded over in death and fear. It was his Fred; his twin brother.

George stumbled away and held himself. He could feel invisible blood wet his fingers and he wiped it on the grass. It wouldn't come off. He touched Fred. "Fred?"

Silence.

"Fred!" George crawled back over to him and shook him. Fred only continued to stare fearfully up at the sky. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

George gathered his brother in his arms and held him close to his chest, whispering over and over into his beautiful long red hair, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes.

"How could you do it, Fred? How could you?"

"You wouldn't understand," Fred said after a long pause. Fred looked away from George's wounded eyes, broken windows to a broken soul. The accused twin took another long breath from his cigarette, inhaling and savoring the chocking smoke, smothering himself before finally exhaling, watching the smoke disappear into the air. He flicked his thumb against the cigarette, taping the ash off and revealing the ignited paper.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Harry collapsed back into one of the chairs provided as the Healer turned off the speaker. He clutched his head in his hands and let his sobs shake his body. A Healer laid a comforting hand on his back. Harry breathed deeply and tried to control himself. The Healer thought nothing bad of the Boy-Who-Saved-The-World; he had proved his strength by standing through the whole ordeal.

"How…will he ever come back, doctor?" Harry asked hopefully. The Healer wondered if a doctor was a Healer in the Muggle world, but he didn't ask. He only sighed and looked through the window that showed a padded room with one man inside, a mirror before him.

"Even if our knowledge in medical healing evolved greatly, I don't think Mr. Weasley will ever be saved," the Healer said sadly. "Unlike many of our other patients, he is fighting a personal battle that no one can stop. He is reliving the moment when he changed and he is stuck in it until he brings himself out of it. No amount of magic can save him."

"Maybe a familiar face, a familiar voice…?" Harry suggested desperately, taking another glance at his friend.

The Healer shook his head sadly. "He won't see you. He only sees himself and his twin."

"How can one murder do this to him?" Harry demanded angrily, still pale from listening to the repeated conversation.

"Mr. Potter, it wasn't just _any_ murder. George murdered his twin, and no matter how different twins are, they are specially bonded. In this case, George still loved his twin, even after Fred did all these horrible things. And in killing Fred, George was so horrified with himself that it threw him out of his mind. He's lost half of himself."

"Why do you keep the mirror there?" Harry asked as he watched George imitated Fred in the mirror, lifting an imaginary cigarette to his lips and blowing out air, his eyes cold. The reflection in the mirror changed, ice-cold eyes melting instantly to forlorn blue ones as George began to talk. "Why don't you take it away?"

"We tried once. He foamed at the mouth and flung himself around the room. It drives him deeper into insanity when we take it away. We hope that maybe his conversation will extend and he'll bring himself out of it. But that's an impossible hope," the Healer said sadly, watching with Harry as George, now Fred, shouted something to his reflection.

"Thanks for letting me see him," Harry said, standing to his feet and held out his hand. The Healer shook it in goodbye and Harry left without another word, finally knowing the truth of the death of his dear friends.

Harry pulled his ponytail tighter as he straddled his bike. His usual untamable hair had grown into beautiful black waves. He hadn't cut it since the war began, and he didn't intend to. Short hair was his past, short hair was when he was friends with Ron and Hermione. The war had been over a year, and still he wasn't brave enough to face the past, scared of seeing the happy memories again, scared of knowing what was going to happy to his friends; it was as depressing as looking into a moving picture and knowing that the people caught in that moment were oblivious to the future, how they would die. His wife understood; Luna was a wise woman. She proved her intelligence on the battlefields, saving many lives countless of times, and always there to help Harry when no one was left to hold his hand. She was the last string that connected him to his past that he could hold onto.

He knew of Hermione's and Draco's affair. Hermione had told him after the two got engaged. They were going to get married after the war and raise their baby in a peaceful world. It gave Harry more motivation during bleak times, more determination to win, especially after he was told that he was to be the child's godfather. Draco had changed during school, and right before school had ended, he had joined to be a spy against the Dark Side. It overjoyed Hermione; it encouraged the Order; and it pleased Snape who had a very soft spot for his godson. And Draco played his part of being evil exceptionally well. He talked about it as if he was on the Dark Side. No one suspected him.

He lowered the visor of his helmet and started his motorcycle, the bike that used to belong to Sirius. Hagrid had given it to Harry for his sixteenth birthday present. He rubbed the black metal lovingly, fondly remembering his godfather; even after all these years he still missed him terribly. Kicking up the kickstand, he drove away from St. Mugo's, enjoying the cramped streets of London. All the while as his bike sped home to his pregnant wife, haunted words flew in the air, not wanting to be forgotten.

_"How could you, Fred? How could you kill them?"_

_"You wouldn't understand."_

Harry accelerated his motorcycle, a tear falling from his green eyes.

**A/N:** :sees shocked faces: well, I _did_ warn you that it was pretty dark, although I could have made it darker. And this is just a little fun fact, I wrote all this while listening to the Shrek 2 soundtrack, with the "Accidentally In Love" song on repeat…I think this one beats my _Virgin Stains_! Which is saying something because I thought that was a rather dark fic for my writing style. What can I say? I was born for angst. I hope this fic wasn't too confusing!

Feedback is **GREATLY APRRICATATED**. Tell me how repulsed you are of this fic. Tell me how you loved the darkness. Tell me I'm a sick person – which I can't deny, especially after writing this fic. Tell me anything, just **please review**! It really means A LOT to me:_large_ puppy eyes:


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